I Didn't Choose the Mug Life

I'm a writer in that I'm the type of loser who goes to cafes and sits in the corner typing away at her "novel."

Wait. I always love* when I hear people poke loving fun at that stereotype around me, as if it's not a real thing, as if it somehow makes me less of a writer because of where I choose to write, when I choose to write, how I choose to write. Or maybe it's because I'm a writer who went to school for writing. Or maybe it's because I'm a writer who went to school for writing who writes in cafes and works at Starbucks...

...so I'm a stereotype.

Moving on, my point is that I go to cafes. Well, to be more specific, I go to Barnes and Noble. Which is all well and good because I love their Spinach and Turkey wrap, but sometimes it's noisy, and bright, and they're playing some weird instrumentalized version of a movie soundtrack which really only makes it more distracting because now of course I have to spend 20 minutes listening to the song to figure out what soundtrack it is and by the time I figure out it's Les Mis I've lost the train of thought of whatever I was writing.



Obviously, my trips to Barnes and Noble under the guise of being "productive" tended to be about the complete opposite half the time. But I did it, because I can't write at home and I can't go back to the library since the Great Overdue Book of '07 (update: still unread and still overdue). It's super stressful, to not have anywhere to just kick back and work without feeling distracted.

But then my friend and fellow blogger and naptime enthusiast, Danielle, who is ultimately more in tune with her writerly self than I could ever hope to be, wrote a post based on a book she was reading.

 I'd take a minute and read it RIGHT HERE, because not only is it what I'm basing the next couple paragraphs on but her blog in general makes me feel like I could never enjoy my own life half as much as she does and every post she ever makes is downright delightful.

READ IT READ IT READ IT THANK ME LATER.

Basically the whole idea of this "Artist's Date" resonated with me. Anyone who has ever spent ANY time with me knows how much worrying I do and how anxious I get about being the "outsider." I'm an introvert by nature and my only friends are the people who have stuck around for 2+ years to figure out that I don't hate you, I just have permanent bitch-face and a propensity for companionable silence.

So taking time for myself to go spend time somewhere and recognize that I shouldn't allow my own enjoyment be based on the whims of those around me, seemed like something I sorely needed. The question was, where?

Luckily, I came up with that pretty fast. Those of you who tune in every post remember how a couple weeks ago I posted about my day date with Dan, and that we went to that cafe? Well, I decided to go back. With a vengeance.

And go back I did. And it was wonderful.

I have tons of pictures I'll edit in later (because if I stop writing this post to wait until I have them next to me it ain't never getting written) but I went with my hefty stack of papers and an intent to relax in a comfy chair and edit. So I curled up in a booth in the loft area, tucked away from everyone but a couple study bugs, with an iced coconut mocha and a cinnamon crunch muffin, and went at it.

After about an hour and a half, I realized three things:

1) I had edited 40 pages with words like "parallelism" and "tense shift" and "awk, rephrase you moron" in scribbled editing handwriting and for the first time in my life, I felt like I was a writer, and not just a "writer."

2) I had been drinking this iced mocha without my customary additions of a buttload* of sugar. This espresso was good, something I'd never said about anything out of my wagegiver. I didn't even mind the price I paid for it.

3) Literally nobody, not even stinkeye barista, gave a shit that I was clearly working here.

And with that, I realized I had found a new place to write.

So I'm typing this blog to you guys from a darkened corner table on Main Street, eating a piece of zucchini bread and drinking an iced coconut macchiato. I'm about to go edit my manuscript and everything in this part of my life right now feels good.

I love you guys.

* Side note, does anyone else love the progression of burden of beast/assload -> buttload quite like I do? English is magical.